


Loving Bonds

by Tales of Josan archivist (nocturnus)



Series: A gift of light series (by Josan) [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Family, Family Fluff, Grandpapa Snape, M/M, Madam Pomfrey - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-30 01:23:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10866117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnus/pseuds/Tales%20of%20Josan%20archivist
Summary: Some men never grow up and their families have to deal with that.(Sequel to "A gift of light")





	Loving Bonds

**Author's Note:**

> Archivist's note:  
> This story was originally archived by Josan at Angelfire and, five years later, at Tales_of_Josan blog at Live Journal. She hasn’t updated the latter since 2008. As Lj administration reserve the right to delete inactive blogs. I am merely putting her fics onto AO3 so that they are safe from any issues on LJ.  
> I'm doing this for the purpose of preserving her fics.
> 
> ***
> 
> Author's Notes: After I posted Gift of Light, I got lots of requests for a sequel. You get this one due to the diligent blue pencil of my beta, Kai, who insisted I had to remain true to the tone of the original story. (She nixed the first one I wrote, thereby saving me embarrassment and you from having to read some badfic!)
> 
> This story is dedicated to all those betas who keep writers on the straight and narrow. This archive, among others, is filled with the results of your efforts. Thank you.

Out of the corner of her eye, Madam President saw one of her aides come scurrying into the conference room. She wondered what had him all flustered. He was usually very calm and sedate, habits that had other of her aides ofttimes wanting to hex him.

She kept her face turned towards the Ambassador as he droned on about this idiotic feud his people were having with their neighbours, a feud that had its basis in some forgotten event some seven centuries ago, and that had now flared up for some equally idiotic reason. Witches and Wizards from Latin America tended to be quite volatile at the best of times, and this time was anything but.

Still, she did track her aide as he skimmed his way, not up to her, but to one of her consultants. He leaned over the man's shoulder, whispered something into his ear that had him look up, face expressionless except for its sudden paleness. Her aide handed him a small scroll that had obviously been opened: all scrolls coming in to this sensitive secret meeting had to be cleared before going on to the destinee. And it bore a broken red seal, a sign of the highest priority.

She expected him to stand, to indicate that he was leaving with the aide who was now making his way back out. Of course, he did no such thing. He was a professional, one of the top men in his field. He sat listening, taking notes, preparing a document that she knew would contain the best advice he could give her on this situation.

But he never regained his colour.

She hadn't intended to call a break, but when after an hour he still looked ill, she called for a brief recess.

"Your peoples have lived with this for centuries and are aware of all the nuances. I think it best for me to absorb the matter in small portions, all the better to understand the whole. If you would give me half an hour?" She rose and led her people out.

Once in the large room that had been assigned as her office, she gestured to her consultant.

"Madam?"

"Hillswick, what's wrong?"

He suddenly looked very lost. "It's...it's papa. There's been an accident."

She didn't bother to ask if it was severe: the red seal indicated it was.

"Then go to him, immediately."

"But, Madam..."

"Alexander. Go to your father. Your aide is well trained. She'll take notes for you and I'm certain that when the time comes, if you're not back, her recommendations will reflect your training. I'll make certain she checks in with you before she hands them to me."

"Madam..."

She placed her hand on his arm and shook him a little. "Go to your father, Alexander, and give him my love. Once you know what's happened and how he is, send an owl through the usual lines. Now, go."

It was late when he apparated into the yard of the house called Light's Delight. Though he had been told to leave immediately, there were things that had to be done, matters to be dealt with. He'd had to touch base with his aide, to ensure that they were both in agreement on the nuances of the negotiations. Afterwards, he'd hurried to the designated apparation point and now, he was here.

A corner of the house was lit, indicating someone was at home.

Home.

Alexander fought to ignore the chill that made its way up his spine. Though he hadn't lived here in decades, it was still home to him. Home, where his father and Eirik lived. It was where he and his family spent part of their summer holidays, his wife and children loving the house and its occupants as much as he did.

He quietly closed the door behind him, making his way into the large open area that was the centre of the house. Someone was wrapped in a blanket, sleeping away on the long couch. As he approached, his heart stilled: it was Freya.

Dear Merlin! Eirik hadn't been exaggerating! It truly had to be serious. He'd been harbouring some hope that Eirik had been over-reacting - he tended to be far more emotional than his father - but if Freya was here... What with Bestefar not in the best of health, she rarely left the Brekke residence.

If she was here...

"Alexander?"

He turned to see his wife in the hallway, at the entrance of the great room. She opened her arms to him, making him leave the room to come up to her. As he pulled her into his arms, she murmured against his shoulder, "It's all right, Alexander. He's going to be all right. Freya says so."

He sighed, burying his face against her hair, her long, curly, unruly black hair which irritated her so and he so loved.

Her hands reached up his back, stroking in a soothing way until he'd recovered enough to ask, "What happened?"

Nathalie de la Rivire-Wolff brushed the hair off his face as she smiled tiredly at him. "He fell off his broomstick. Unfortunately, he fell from a height of about the top of the house. S.J. managed to break his fall somewhat, but Severus hit the ground hard enough to knock himself out for several minutes. He's suffered multiple fractures and a concussion."

"S.J. was with him?"

She nodded, her smile losing some of its firmness. "He's fine, but he was and still is very upset. Freya got him to take a sleeping potion."

"Freya..."

""...is here because Eirik insisted on her being here. You know how he is about Severus. And when she heard, she came immediately. The mediwitches were more afraid of her criticizing them than they were afraid for Severus. Mind, she was the one who finally managed to get Eirik under control. And I'm certain that Severus got more attentive care than he would have had she not been here."

He noticed that as she'd been speaking to him, she'd stepped back, forcing him to leave the great room. In the hallway, they could speak in normal though soft tones, not having to worry about waking Freya.

"What was he doing up on a broomstick?"

Nath shrugged. "He was showing S.J. some move. A Quidditch thing."

"What... Why was..."

She shook her head at his inability to finish a thought.

"When did you get here?" He allowed her to pull him towards the stairs.

"As a matter of fact, just after it happened. I was in my office and I had a premonition. I thought I'd just apparate in for a moment. I thought maybe Inga or Daniel was getting up to something they shouldn't..." She shrugged. "Instead, I heard Inga screaming and Eirik shouting at Daniel to get help."

Alexander smiled at her. "You and your premonitions. Thank Merlin you follow through on them."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "It was bedlam there for a while. Inga handled it well until the medi-crew got here, then she got very upset. She yelled at S.J. She's promised me she'll apologize to him tomorrow. Daniel was very stoic. Actually, of all of us, he handled it the best. I think he still doesn't realize just how serious it was at the time."

She looked up at him, her eyes filling. "I thought we were going to lose him, Alexander. He was so white and he was bleeding, from his nose, from a gash on his forehead."

"How bad is the damage?" He was the one who now soothed her, kissing her on the temple, his hand rubbing her back. Their twenty years of marriage had given them a firm understanding of each other's needs.

She sniffed and reached into a pocket to pull out a handkerchief. Still in the circle of his arms, she blew her nose and wiped her eyes. "His left side took the brunt of the fall. Three fractures in that leg, including the thigh bone. Shin and ankle in the right. Left arm, elbow and wrist broken. Dislocated right shoulder. That's where S.J. thinks he hit him, with the nose of his broomstick. Oh, and a couple of cracked ribs on the left. Muscle strains. Scratches. Concussion."

"Merlin! What the bloody hell was he up to?!"

"Shh, keep your voice down. It's only been about an hour since I got Freya to lie down."

"Where is he?"

"Severus? In his room, where else?" She looked at him, this smile revealing some of her frustration. "The medi-crew wanted to take him to the hospital, but Severus refused to allow them and Eirik backed him up, of course. Freya finally convinced them that, all things considered, it would be easier on everyone for Severus to remain here."

Alexander closed his eyes and sighed loudly after counting to ten. "Yes, *of course*. Of course my father would prefer to stay in his own bed. Of course Eirik would back him. Of course," he looked down at her, "you know they're going to drive us crazy."

She smiled and nodded. "You more than me. I have to get back to the office. We're still dealing with scheduling conflicts with Madam President's werewolf clans conference next week. Won't she be needing you in Sao Paulo?"

Alexander shook his head. "Ermintrude is taking over. I think she'll do well: she's about ready to branch off on her own. Madam President has assured both of us that Ermintrude will check in with me before handing in her recommendations."

He rubbed his cheek against hers, feeling some relief now that the edge of his worries had been blunted. "Where's Eirik?"

"With Severus. Once the medi-crew went, he installed himself at bedside. He hasn't left him for a moment, not even to eat anything."

Alexander nodded. "I'll take care of that."

"Send him to the kitchen, if you can. Orm and Vigfus will see to him. I'll be in there, dealing with the messages that have arrived from the family."

"I love you, you know."

She smiled up at him. She'd once teased him that he'd married her because she was a head shorter than he was, a novel experience for him since all of his friends and most of the Brekkes were taller than he. "Yes, I do know. Nice to hear it though."

He kissed her and, as she always did, she melted against him. His toes tingled when her tongue slipped into his mouth. As they always did.

"Missed you," she whispered, her tongue in his ear. He shivered. "Go see your papa."

Alexander stood in the doorway of his parents' room, looking both men over by the soft light of the bedside lamp.

Eirik was in a wing chair, pulled up as close as possible to the side of the bed, Severus's uninjured hand in his.

His father lay, not on his side of the bed, but on Eirik's, probably in deference to his more injured left side. Apart from the smallish square bandage on his forehead, the paleness of his complexion, he could have been just sleeping, instead of recovering from a nearly fatal fall.

Alexander closed his eyes for a moment and offered a prayer to whichever deity it was who kept watch on men who refused to act their age.

"Alexander?"

He opened his eyes and pushed himself away from the support of the doorframe and into the room. "Eirik."

Who truly frightened him.

Usually Severus liked to pretend he was regularly accused of cradle-robbing, especially as the men had grown older. The only outward signs that the years had been passing for Eirik were his hair gradually fading from a blond so pale as to be white to a true white and the faint wrinkles around his eyes.

Now, there were deep lines of strain around his mouth, his facial muscles seemed to have slacked off the bones. His eyes were almost colourless and had none of their usual life in them. And he looked old. Looked every minute of his age.

Alexander bent to kiss his onkel on the cheek. "You look like hell," he whispered.

It had been the right thing to say. Eirik suddenly snorted - still very quietly - and then shook his head. "I felt I was there for a time this afternoon," he admitted, also whispering.

Alexander pulled up another chair from a corner, knowing that Eirik was not ready to leave his father. "Do you know what happened? Exactly why he was up there?"

"Bloody idiot! Thinks he's a teenager!"

Alexander allowed his eyebrows to rise. "Really." He infused the word with his knowledge of all the times Eirik himself had behaved in a manner that Alexander and Nath would not permit in their own teenagers.

Eirik understood and ignored the polite chastisement. "He was showing S.J. some Quidditch moves. The Potter variation on the Wronski Feint! Of all the bloody stunts to pull... Him! As though he was ever any good at Quidditch!"

Alexander lay his hand on Eirik's arm, offering support and consolation in the one gesture. "That's your domain, isn't it?" And hid the smile. If Eirik were ready to bitch about Quidditch, Severus was truly out of danger. Alexander allowed himself to tease, knowing that unless the usual rituals were observed, Eirik might not be persuaded to leave Severus long enough to go eat.

"Yes, it is." Eirik managed to look offended, though his grip on Severus's hand never loosened. "I'm the one who does foolish things in this family. It's always been his role to keep me under control. So now that he'd almost 90, he's decided to reverse roles, is that it?" he muttered. "I wish he would have mentioned it to me before now. I wouldn't have called in Freya..."

His voice broke and Alexander moved to place his arms around his parent. He held him tightly while Eirik got himself under control and then tiredly dropped his head onto Alexander's shoulder.

"It was a good thing that you did call Freya in. Can you imagine the riot act she'd have read us if you hadn't?" Alexander rubbed his cheek against Eirik's head, feeling the fragility in the man whom, till now, he'd considered indestructible. Well, if he himself was aging, how could he have expected his parents not to?

"Nothing compared to the riot act she'll read us when she feels Severus is up to it. Odin help us, we're both going to have to take it."

"And humbly," Alexander teased, knowing how much both his parents hated being taken to task.

"How did you get away from the battle-axe?"

Alexander stifled his laughter. "Madam President was the one who insisted I come home." In a way, it was comforting to know that Eirik still hadn't forgiven her for "requesting" Severus's presence to deal with what ended up being some new poison potion when Eirik was opening a show in New York City. It had been the first opening Severus had missed since they'd gotten together.

"Soothing her guilty conscience, I expect."

"Probably."

They were silent for a few moments. Alexander suddenly realized that this was the first time in his life that one of his parents was leaning on him. It unexpectedly made him feel very grown-up. "Onkel Eirik, Nath has supper waiting for you downstairs. Would you be kind enough to put her out of her misery and go eat? You know she won't find her bed until you do. And she has to deal with that insanity tomorrow."

Eirik said nothing then pulled back. He glanced at Alexander and then at Severus. "You'll stay with him until I come back?"

"Yes, I'd like a little time with him alone. Thank you."

Eirik nodded. He was about to move when he looked into Alexander's eyes. "I don't think I've ever been this scared, Alexander. Not even when you and Rhodri were kidnapped."

Alexander nodded. "I know what you mean. When he's well, we'll both read him the riot act." He leaned over and kissed his beloved onkel. "Go eat. Then take a hot shower. You'll feel better, I promise. And I promise I won't leave him until you come back."

They exchanged places, with Alexander taking his father's hand in his. Eirik remained standing by the chair until Alexander looked up. "I love him. I love you, too, but I love him."

Alexander smiled. "I know. I love you, too, Onkel Eirik."

Eirik placed his hand on Alexander's shoulder, gave it a squeeze then left the room.

Alexander sat back in the chair and took a good look at his father.

Unlike Eirik, Severus had gradually shown his age. His hair was no longer black but a steel grey that made him look dignified. His face had the usual wrinkles, but somehow, with middle age, he had grown into his features. He looked less stern and more at ease with himself and life.

Alexander liked to think his children had had something to do with that.

The hand in his twitched and Alexander sat forward, wondering if he should call for someone.

"Papa?" he whispered.

Severus's face tightened in a grimace and he tried to move.

"No, papa. Don't move. You'll hurt yourself. Hang on, I'll call Vigfus."

"No," croaked Severus. "No. Water."

Using his left hand, afraid to release his father `s hand even for a moment, Alexander managed to fill the glass on the night table without spilling any water. He finally realized that if he was to help his father raise his head high enough to drink without choking, he did have to use his other hand.

He slipped his hand under Severus's head and tilted it up enough so that his father could sip at the straw with some ease.

"Thank you. That Skele-Gro stuff still tastes like hippogriff piss."

Alexander sighed. All right. His father's usual tones were a little rough, but he could hear the disgust at having to ingest a potion not of his making.

"Should I call someone, papa? Are you in any pain?" Severus looked at him and Alexander wondered if they mightn't have underestimated the crazy his father was going to drive him. "I know, idiotic question. But if you were in pain, would you even tell me?"

Severus closed his eyes and his hand reached up for Alexander's. "Yes, I would. And I will. But I need to talk with you first. That pain medication knocks me out and frankly, Freya insisted I take enough to hold me till morning."

Alexander sat on the edge of the chair. "What do you need to tell me, papa?"

Severus opened his eyes. They were duller than usual, but still alive. "Don't worry, I have no intention of bringing up my last will and testament."

He sounded a little more like himself and Alexander allowed himself to smile. "I don't for one moment expect that for many years yet."

Severus sighed. "Eirik is right. It was close this...afternoon?"

"Afternoon. Though it's almost tomorrow now."

Severus's face was tense, but Alexander knew better than to insist on pain medication until his father actually asked for it.

"Have you seen S.J.?"

"Not yet. Nath says he's sleeping."

"He saved my life."

Alexander lowered his cheek and rested it against the hand he held. "Did he?"

"Yes. I was over water when I fell off. He managed to hit me and deflect my path of descent to over land."

Alexander's breath caught. Over water! Merciful Merlin! The cove cliffs were at least 165 metres high. Severus would have been killed for certain if he'd hit the water in the cove from that height! He forced himself to calm down: yelling at his parent right now was not in the works, even if it would have made him feel better.

"You can yell at me later," offered Severus, his eyes open.

Alexander rubbed his mouth against his father's knuckles. "You can bet the house on that." He looked up, meeting his father's eyes, which were less dull than they had been. "Papa, what in the name of all that's holy were you doing up there?"

"The Potter..."

"...variation on the Wronski Feint. So I heard. Why, papa? Did S.J..."

"S. J. had nothing to do with my choice of that move. That was my own stupid fault. But S.J..."

"What about S.J., papa?"

Severus sighed a little loudly, tried to shift his shoulders and winced immediately. "I think he's unsure about Hogwarts. About attending the school where I taught and where his papa has left such a reputation."

Alexander sat back in the chair. "So you took it upon yourself to give him a Seeker lesson?"

Severus actually smiled. "I was doing rather well, if I do say so myself. If a sudden gust of wind..."

Alexander rolled his eyes. "Papa. Since the day we moved into this house, the rule has always been no Quidditch practice without the presence of an adult."

Severus tried to look very stern. "I am an adult."

"Truly? I think that might be debatable, papa."

Severus snorted then winced again. "Don't make me laugh. It hurts too much."

Alexander shook his head. Damn, what if this action on his father's part meant that...

"I am not growing senile, Alexander."

Alexander cocked his head: his father had always been able to read him easily.

"I'm not."

"Then you'll have to behave yourself, won't you?"

"Go back to being the serious, sober one?" Severus looked disgusted. "I've been that for most of my life. I think it's time someone else took over that role."

"Well, don't look at me. You'll have to discuss that role-reversal with Onkel Eirik."

The smile that lightened Severus's face was one that Alexander had seen often in his life. It meant that Severus was thinking of something sexual, between Eirik and himself.

"I don't want to know," groaned Alexander, in as melo-dramatic a tone as he could produce.

Severus grinned slightly and closed his eyes. He looked tired and Alexander tucked the bedclothes a little more closely to his father. "Go to sleep, papa. Get better fast and you'll be able to do whatever brought that smile to your face sooner rather than later."

Severus gave a small nod. "Alexander. Talk to S.J."

"I will, papa. I promise." He leaned over and kissed his father on the forehead, away from the bandage. Then he sat back in the chair and waited.

"Is he still sleeping?"

Alexander turned in the chair to look over his shoulder. Eirik's hair was neatly braided, though still wet, and he'd changed into the light robe he kept in the bathroom. He didn't look less tired, but he'd lost some of the aging.

"He woke once, but he went back to sleep."

Eirik nodded. He held up two small vials. "I went into the lab and found one of his pain potions and another of Healing Sleep. He'll be happier taking his own potions rather than the ones the medi-crew left behind for him."

Alexander smiled, nodding. His father was a perfectionist when it came to potions and his were the purest. He probably wouldn't need to take as much of his own potions, which meant he'd be less cranky.

Eirik set them on the night table, along with a glass of water. "I'll see that he takes them when he wakes. The batch they gave him was quite strong, and he needed that, but..."

"He'll protest less about taking these." Alexander placed his father's hand on the cover and stood, stretching slightly. "He'll also protest less if you're not falling asleep on your feet."

Eirik shrugged.

Alexander pulled out his paternal voice. "Eirik."

His onkel glared at him. "Keep that tone for your children, Alexander Hillswick. I know very well that I need to get some sleep. Someone will have to keep him in a good mood when that physio-wizard arrives tomorrow."

Alexander couldn't hide his surprise. "This quickly?"

Eirik nodded again. "Freya sent the request for one before the medi-crew had even left. To Potter. He's loaning us one of his team."

Alexander bit his lower lip. He was careful to avoid Eirik's eyes. Oh, dear. Potter was now the general manager of the American contender for the Quidditch World Cup. One of Potter's meant nothing either his father or Eirik said would sway the physio-wizard. Potter's people, besides being the best in their specialties, were very focused. Whether he wanted to or not, liked it or not, Severus would be in physio-therapy until the man decided his father was like new. Probably better than new.

He suddenly hoped Ermintrude might need him in Soa Paulo: his father's temper would be badly strained in the next days.

Eirik had moved to the other side of the bed and had begun loosening his robe. "He knows I hate sleeping on this side of the bed."

"We shall all be making sacrifices in the next days, Onkel."

Eirik looked from his father to him. "Go find your own bloody bed, Alexander," he ordered gruffly. "I don't want to think right now about the next days." He shook his head. "He had some potion simmering away. I turned it off. You know what he's like when something happens to take him away from one of those."

Alexander groaned as he left the room.

He only partially shut the door behind him. He wanted to check in on his children then again on these two before finding Nath and bed.

He went quietly up the stairs to the loft. Once an entire room, it had now been divided into two. Inga was sleeping in one room, her hand tucked under her cheek, her long hair braided back. At sixteen, she was a woman in all but age. He tucked the blanket up to her shoulder and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. That's when he saw she had her old teddy bear in her arms, a sure sign that as mature as she was for her age, the day had been very stressful.

In the other room, Daniel was stretched out on his bed, blankets thrown back, arms and legs spread out, hanging over the edge of the bed. At fourteen, this child of his was already taller than he. Alexander shook his head. Wolff genes were responsible for that. His father-in-law was almost seven feet tall though his mother-in-law was no taller than Nath.

Alexander didn't bother covering up this child: Daniel would only throw the blankets off again. He was always hot. But the fact that he was this sound asleep at night meant that he too had been stressed out by the events of the day. Daniel was their night-owl.

He went to check on the other bed only to find it empty. S.J. must have needed to go to the bathroom, Alexander thought. He'd see how the boy was on his way to his room.

Back downstairs, he stopped by his parents' door and silently pushed it open, sticking his head around, just to see that all was as it should be.

Eirik was as close to his father as he probably thought he could get without hurting him. His head was on the edge of his father's pillow, his arm around his father's waist.

It looked as though they were both sleeping.

But then his father's hand moved so that it rested on top of Eirik's, whose fingers opened and claimed his father's.

He was about to close the door when Alexander heard Eirik's soft, "Love you."

"Bloody idiot that I am?"

"My bloody idiot. Don't ever do this again, Severus or, so help me Odin, I'll make you regret it. I have some great plans for our one hundredth birthdays, and if I have to alter them, I shall not be happy."

Alexander heard a small resigned sigh. "Then I shall have to behave, won't I?"

"I'll make it worth your while if you do."

There was silence for a moment, then his father's voice teased, "Promises, promises."

And Alexander closed the door.

"Nath, have you seen S.J.?"

His wife looked up from the letter with Sigwulf Nansen's logo on it. Though now retired, the architect was still very involved in the lives of those who lived and worked in his prize-winning designs.

"He should be in bed." She frowned, "Isn't he there?"

Before Alexander could really begin to worry, Vigfus spoke up from the entrance to the mud room.

"Sir. Madam. S.J. is in the Master's laboratory."

"Thank you, Vigfus." Nath began rising but Alexander waved her back down. "Papa wants me to speak to him. I think S.J. will feel more comfortable in Papa's lab."

She shook her head. "He must have snuck out when Eirik went to get those potions."

"Go to bed, love. I'll see that our wandering boy is in his own before I join you."

More than his work space, the laboratory was Severus's haven. It seemed it was also his grandson's.

Alexander allowed the door to close silently behind him. The small figure - hunched up at one end of the couch that Severus kept there for napping whenever a potion required round the clock care - didn't move. Alexander smiled to himself, certain the boy knew he was here.

He said nothing, merely settled at the other end of the couch and waited as his son finished sniffling. S.J. pulled a large white handkerchief out of the robe he had wrapped around himself - Severus's workrobe - and loudly blew his nose. He bunched it up in his hands and stared down at it.

"Are you all right, S.J.?" Alexander asked gently.

The boy shrugged.

"Papa told me how you saved his life."

There was a muttered response, none of which Alexander could decipher.

"I'm sorry, son. I didn't get that."

The boy looked up and Alexander wondered once more how not only Severus Snape's eyes were replicated in his son, but his features as well.

"Inga said it was all my fault."

Alexander frowned. If S.J. had inherited Snape genes, Inga had inherited some of hers from his mother-in-law, a sweet woman who often spoke without thinking.

"And how was this afternoon your fault?"

S.J. stared at the white in his hands. "She says I shouldn't have allowed Grandpapa to fly, that he was doing it only to please me."

Alexander didn't bother to smother his laugh. His son's head snapped up and those black eyes almost glared at him.

"S.J. I want you to think a moment. Not just about your sister's habit of talking without thinking in times of stress, but also about your grandfather's reputation." He leaned over as though holding a confidential discussion with his son. "This is Severus Snape we're talking about. Remember him? The stubbornest wizard on the planet. The wizard who, once his mind is made up, nothing, not even Imperius, can change it. So how were you, a mere child, beloved grandson though you are, supposed to get Severus Snape to change his mind?"

The boy cocked his head, curious. "Not even Imperius?"

Alexander sat back. "There is in the history of Severus Snape only one occasion when someone got him to change his mind. And that someone was my Bestefar."

S.J. almost smiled. "Bestefar Brekke got Grandpapa to change his mind?"

Alexander nodded. "And much as I love you, my son, you are no Bestefar Brekke. So if your grandfather was determined to do something, well, all I can say is that I am very, very thankful, S.J., that you were with him when that gust of wind blew him off his broomstick."

S.J. looked worried again. Alexander waited. This child was not the most gregarious of his children but if he had something to say, he always seriously considered before opening his mouth. It was a pity that Inga hadn't inherited some of his father's reticence and that S.J. had, according to Nath, a little too much of it.

"Papa."

"Yes, S.J.?"

The boy was chewing on his lower lip. Alexander wondered what battle he was waging with himself.

"Papa. Grandpapa...when the wind came up...it was really sudden, you know," S.J.'s eyes were intense, as though he wanted to convince Alexander through sheer strength of will.

"I understand," Alexander encouraged.

"Well, Grandpapa was..." his voice grew faint "...standing on his broomstick."

Alexander closed his eyes for a heartbeat. He wondered how a Court of Law would deal with him if he murdered his father after he'd just survived a nearly-fatal fall.

"I thought," he forced himself to speak calmly, "your grandpapa was demonstrating the Potter variation on the Wronski Feint."

"He was. And it was brilliant, papa." S.J.'s pride in his grandfather was evident. "But then he wanted to supervise me doing it and that's...when...he...stood up."

S.J.'s voice had faded there at the end.

"And I suppose you told him to sit down?"

The boy looked up. "Of course I did. But he didn't have time. The wind shifted direction and..." S.J.'s eyes filled and his voice quivered. "And he fell!"

Alexander leaned over and pulled his weeping child into his arms. He was certain that whatever tears S.J. had shed up till now had been private ones. Now he needed to vent himself in the arms of a parent who would comfort him, reassure him that all would be right with his world. Alexander let him sob against his shoulder, remembering a time when he had wept in his father's arms. Poor papa. He'd been all too new at the experience of parenting that day. Alexander still remembered the comfort and feeling of security those stiff arms and the clumsy gestures had given him.

But Severus had gotten better at it, the parenting stuff, going so far as to decide that his presence put his child's life into too much jeopardy. Thank Merlin that Bestefar had put an end to that idiocy!

By the time Inga had been born, what with Brekke progeny, Luc and Harry Potter's two, Severus Snape, the Greasy Git of Hogwarts, had developed quite a touch with babies.

Inga loved Severus, but she adored Eirik. She'd barely been able to toddle when she'd followed him into his studio to join him in his world of paint and brushes. Alexander expected that she would barricade herself in that same studio sometime soon and produce another canvas that would fill Eirik with pride: her way of dealing with times of stress and strain.

Daniel loved his parents and grandparents equally. His was a tolerant nature, accepting and patient. He too had discovered his particular world early. He'd been five when he'd seen his first telescope. For his last birthday his four grandparents had given him one that would not be scoffed at by any working astronomer. It was set up on the hill away from the house, away from any interfering light, where he could be found any clear night, from star-rise to sunrise. He'd probably be back there every night for the next little while, finding calm and order in his skies

When S.J. had come along, Severus had suddenly pulled back from the child, spending more time watching him than holding or interacting with him. Freya was the one who finally put two and two together and got that the fact the babe was Severus in miniature made Severus afraid. Like him, the babe had large ears, a larger than normal baby nose, a strong chin, and those black eyes that already seemed never to miss a thing.

"You forget, Alexander," she'd reminded him and Eirik, "Severus was rejected by his parents because of his looks. He's afraid for the child and he's trying to find a way of dealing with his fear and his memories."

Nath took care of that one day. She arranged for Severus to overhear her cooing and talking to her son while she was breast-feeding him, telling him how beautiful he was, how lucky to have inherited his grandfather's looks and hopefully his brain. "But not too much of his public personality, Jannik. He snarls far too much, and that I will not tolerate from you."

Jannik was his grandfather's shadow. He loved the lab, loved potions. Loved hearing his grandfather snarl at someone who had displeased him. And of all his children, Alexander knew that his father loved this child most of all. Not that he overtly demonstrated his favouritism, but no one else was permitted to enter his laboratory without being invited in. Not Eirik, not Alexander. Not even Bestefar or Freya. Only his son had the freedom to enter at will.

The Solstice Jannik was four, he'd come down to breakfast and, in a rare momentary bleep of silence at the table, had announced that from now on he wanted to be known as Severus Jannik Hillswick. He'd looked sternly at his parents and siblings. "That's all I want for Solstice."

His siblings had, of course, ignored his request but eventually, when Jannik refused to answer unless so called, everyone had gone with Daniel's suggested compromise. "Severus Jannik takes too long to say," he'd informed his brother in that indolent voice of his. "How about S.J.?"

S.J. sighed against Alexander's shoulder and allowed his father to hold the mangled handkerchief to his nose. He blew several times then rested his head back down, snuggling in the security of his father's arms.

Alexander rubbed his son's back and lay his cheek on the boy's soft hair. "Better now?"

The boy nodded but, apart from that, didn't move.

"Papa and Eirik and your mother all told me that, when the accident happened, you kept your calm and saved your grandfather's life. I'm so proud that you reacted quickly. All those Quidditch matches with the family seem to have paid off rather brilliantly." He lifted his son's chin so that he could look into the boy's eyes. "Thank you, S.J."

The boy shrugged. "I dislocated his shoulder."

Alexander hugged his son tightly. "Better a dislocated shoulder than a dislocated neck."

S.J. clung to him, making it hard to breath.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that last. But I mean it, for the saving."

"I didn't think about it. I had no time. I just did it."

"Excellent responses."

Alexander could feel S.J.'s discomfort. "Could I ask you a question, S.J.?"

His son sat up reluctantly. He looked his father in the eye, as though he knew what was coming. He nodded, eyes too serious.

"Do you really want to go to Hogwarts in September?"

Nothing. No reaction at all. Damn the boy for being so Severus Snape: he could hide his emotions as well as the adult.

"S.J. Listen to me. Maman and I will not be upset if you decide you don't. Neither will your Grandpapa. There are many good schools and any of them will be more than happy to accept you."

Still nothing.

Alexander sighed but kept on trying. He had a reputation as an expert in nuances, but his ten, soon to be eleven, year old son could defeat him every time.

"S.J. Inga chose Beauxbatons because she wanted to attend their Fine Arts Program. Daniel is going to Lillehammer, not only because he didn't want to leave his friends, but because Professor Hakon is an excellent professor of Astronomy.

"Now you like Potions. And yes, Hogwarts does have an excellent professor for Potions. Professor Sun was there when I was a boy and the wizard he trained is now the Potions instructor. And Professor Pheodor is also head of Slytherin so he's used to werewolves and you will be sorted into that House..."

S.J. was shaking his head.

"That's not it? Is it because of me? S.J., I know you like Quidditch, but you know it's not necessary for you to play it if you go to Hogwarts."

"It's not that," muttered his son.

Alexander put on his most severe diplomatic face. His son wriggled. He bit his lower lip. Alexander didn't allow his mask to slip one iota.

The reason rushed out. "Daniel told me that Grandpapa couldn't come to see me graduate if I went to Hogwarts. He said that Grandpapa was under Banishment. Inga told him he was stupid to tell me that. But it's true." His father's eyes looked out at him from his son's face. "Isn't it?"

Alexander nodded. "Yes, it is. Where did Daniel learn of it?"

"School."

Alexander nodded again. "It's not a secret, S.J. I'm sorry that you had to find out from your brother, but frankly, it happened so very long ago..."

"So if I go to Hogwarts, Grandpapa won't be able to come to any of the Quidditch matches or to Graduation. But I want him to. Especially Graduation."

"I understand that. I wanted him there too for mine. And Bestefar arranged it. I'll tell you what, S.J. If Hogwarts is really where you want to go, then that's where you'll go. There's a new administration in Britain and maybe it's time we tried to have that Banishment reversed. Or at least modified."

"And if not?"

Alexander shook his head. Inga and Daniel were both far more malleable than S.J. "I'll speak to Madam President about it. Surely she'll have some ideas. And if not, then we'll see what we can do. I give you my word on that."

S.J. chewed on his lip as he thought Alexander's proposition through. He slowly nodded his head and Alexander felt as victorious as if he'd solved a major international conflict. Mind, it would probably take all his negotiating skills to grant S.J.'s wish, but hell, he wouldn't be Alexander Hillswick if he didn't accept this challenge.

"Shall we go to bed now?"

S.J. shook his head. "Bestefar Eirik turned the fire off from under Grandpapa's potion. I turned it back on." He looked sheepishly at his father. "I thought that even with everything, Grandpapa still wouldn't like it if his potion didn't finish stewing."

"How much longer?"

His son slid off his lap and went to check. "About an hour."

Alexander patted the seat besides him. "Well, I suppose that would allow us enough time for me to tell you how your Grandpapa came to be banished."

S.J. rushed back. "Is it a good story?"

"An excellent story," promised Alexander. "It has everything in it. Dark Lords and evil Aurors. How your uncle Rhodri saved my life. How I saved his. And how your Grandpapa saved both of ours. It's got werewolves and wolfsbane and flying carpets and...and all sorts of good things."

Madam President was surprised to see Hillswick enter her office: she really hadn't expected to see him back this soon. She waved her aide aside and beckoned him over.

"How is your father?"

"Enduring physio-therapy."

"Oh, dear."

Alexander smiled. "Fortunately, I was not needed at home."

Madam President frowned at him, shaking her head. "I suppose your wife..."

"No, Madam President. She too is fortunate enough to have work piling up in her office. Your conference begins in two days, remember?"

She nodded. "So poor Eirik has been abandoned."

"Actually," Alexander's smile grew, "S.J. and the other children have taken on the responsibility of getting papa through this."

"Oh, Alexander Hillswick! That is so...so...so evil. You know that Severus will do or say nothing that might upset those children of yours."

He nodded. "They know it, too. I had to promise them a trip to New York City and the Potters for Solstice." He sighed, a little dramatically. "Used to be I could bribe them with a book or even a box of Chocolate Frogs."

She laughed, kindly. "The holiday will do you all good." Then she switched to business. "I must compliment you on Ermintrude. Her report was precisely what was needed. I understand that she's moving into another department. There's a new lad I would like you to interview as her possible replacement. May I send him to you this afternoon?"

Alexander knew a dismissal when he heard one. "Any time after lunch will be convenient, Madam President."

He bowed to her and prepared to leave her office. He was at the door when she called him back. "Alexander." Her hand reached out and patted his arm. "Severus is quite tough, you know. He's been hurt before and he does recover."

Alexander nodded. "But he's also almost 90 years old."

That took her by surprise. "My, they do grow up."

He grinned at her. "Yes, indeed we do, Madam Pomfrey."

Then he bowed to her once more and went out to deal with his work.

La Fin


End file.
